


It's all a matter of perspective

by Bubulona



Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I need me more Kahnwald family moments, These two are happy and alive, just a little because there is no time travel or the messes it brings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubulona/pseuds/Bubulona
Summary: "I may not know much about the matter but I’m always willing to listen to you, Jonas. Please know that I’m always here for you; good and bad.”In which Jonas and Martha have a slight disagreement, and Michael is there for his son.
Relationships: Jonas Kahnwald & Michael Kahnwald | Mikkel Nielsen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43
Collections: Kahnwald Collection





	It's all a matter of perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Dark. This wonderful and complicated series belongs to Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese and Netflix. 
> 
> Just a little idea I had, in which Michael and Jonas have a talk and they are happy and alive. Save to say there is no time travel. Or maybe there is and I just don't know.

_Almost done_ , Michael thought while adding a dash of yellow to the painting. He took some steps back, and with a slight frown, he stared at his work.

Was it good enough to be considered finished?

Although the painting wasn’t a commissioned work, Michael still thought of it as one of the most important paintings he would ever create. He briefly wondered if the painting at the other side of the room, which was dark, heavy, and seemed filled with dread and devoid of life, would be a good companion; Michael wanted to believe that these works of art, although opposites, were two halves of one whole.

Deciding that he needed a break, Michael cleaned his hands and went downstairs to get something to eat. As he got closer to the kitchen, he saw Jonas getting the milk from the fridge, and Michael thought of “spooking” him. Being as quiet as possible – which wasn’t that hard to do since Michael Kahnwald was known for being one of Winden’s quietest people – he stood behind Jonas and waited for his chance.

Jonas, who had a bottle of milk in his hands, sniffed it before pouring some into a bowl with cereal. Once he was done, he put it away and as he turned around, he saw his father, who exclaimed, “Boo!”

Jonas smiled sheepishly and replied, “Hello, Papa.” Michael grinned and ruffled his son’s hair. He sat down at the table and grabbed some grapes from the fruit bowl. Once Jonas sat down, Michael noticed that something was off.

“Did something happen?” Michael asked gently, though concern was evident in his voice. When Jonas made a face and played with his cereal, Michael carefully prodded, “Is everything okay?” Although Jonas had taken after his parents’ quiet and timid natures – more so from Michael – he was known to be quite easygoing and happy. This Jonas playing with his food was uncharacteristically serious and seemed bothered by something of importance. Michael hated seeing him like this – it tugged on his heartstrings.

Jonas slouched in his seat before looking up to his father, his cereal bowl forgotten – not that he had had much appetite to begin with. He noticed his father’s concerned face, and quickly took it upon himself to reassure Michael – Jonas knew his father had the tendency to overthink things and get anxious over the smallest of things. “It’s nothing serious. It’s just…” Jonas furrowed his brows and murmured, “Martha and I had a disagreement.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. He knew that those two loved each other very much – Martha and Jonas were separable; their connection had been evident since childhood. It didn’t take an artist like Michael to notice that Martha and Jonas seemed to live in a world of their own, as if the laws of the universe didn’t apply to them or as if some inexplicable force beyond their understanding wanted them together. He figured the disagreement must have been serious enough that it would bother Jonas and cause a noticeable change in his mood.

Michael felt compelled to comfort Jonas like he used to when he was younger – with a hug and rubbing the back of his head in a soothing motion – but he felt like this conversation needed a different approach. He felt this needed to be treated like a father listening and giving words of advice to his young adult son – a conversation from man to man.

 _Has time really flown that quickly?_ Michael wondered wistfully. It was only yesterday when Jonas had been a baby in his arms, all chubby and small, fully dependent on Michael and Hannah, and now he was a young man having his first serious disagreement with his girlfriend. Gone were the days when Jonas’s concerns regarding his life were a scrapped knee, a missed television episode, or frustration over not knowing how to pronounce a word.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Michael asked lightly, folding his hands on the table. “I may not know much about the matter but I’m always willing to listen to you, Jonas. Please know that I’m always here for you; good and bad.” The corner of Michael’s lips turned up slightly and he placed a hand under his chin. “Although, I think your mother might be better when it comes to matters of a woman’s heart. I’m still trying to figure out how we ended up together and had such a wonderful boy.”

Jonas’s freckled cheeks were tinged with slight pink, trying not to smile at his dad’s words. Once he composed himself, he pursed his lips. “It’s a little complicated.” And without further explanation, Jonas stood up and took his bowl to the sink. He cleaned his dish, and with a sigh, he turned to look at Michael. “Can we go to your studio?”

“Sure,” Michael replied.

Once they were in the attic, Jonas got a stool and sat down. He looked at the paintings and drafts placed all over the room, until his eyes spotted an unfinished painting. Although unfinished, its colors were warm and hazy, providing him with a blanket of peace and sanctuary. While Jonas admired the painting, Michael grabbed some of his materials and stored them away just in case paint split all over – Hannah would reprimand them for the mess.

Michael took a stool and sat close to his son, just waiting, and never pressuring him. He knew better than anyone how annoying and stressful it could be when someone tried to make you talk about something that you were still trying to figure out or when someone forced you into talking about an uncomfortable topic. Just feeling someone else’s cold stare on him was unbearable – suffocating even – like Michael was a small child being reprimanded for something and all that was left was the inevitable shame and guilt.

Jonas looked away from the painting and glanced at one from across the room. He briefly thought that both paintings represented his dilemma. In a small voice he asked, “Are these the paintings you were talking about the other day?”

Michael’s gaze went to both paintings. “Yes. I feel like these two could work together. They remind me of heaven and hell.”

At the mention of heaven and hell, Jonas tensed a little and wrung his hands. “Actually, that’s what Martha and I argued about.”

Michael scrunched his nose. “Heaven and hell?”

“You know that Martha is part of the theater club at school, right?” Jonas asked, his thumb playing with a chipped area in the stool.

Michael nodded; if Jonas wasn’t busy, he always made sure to go to her plays. Michael thought it was cute.

He continued, “Our group decided to hang out by the lake, you know, to have some fun and to help Martha with her lines. We were fine until we found out what the play was about. We all got into a discussion.”

“Is it something controversial?” Michael inquired, studying Jonas’s face and body language, waiting to see any change or reaction.

Jonas shook his head, some light hair strands sticking out around his forehead. “The question it poses forced us to think about our understandings of hell and paradise.”

At that moment, Michael felt something like a déjà vu. It was as if Michael already knew where the conversation would be headed, and for some bizarre reason, he had an inkling that although he was insignificant to the story his son was about to share, he – Michael – had formed part of it, somewhere or somewhen.

Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, Michael snapped back to reality and waited for Jonas to continue.

“It all started okay. We were joking and having fun; Magnus and Bartosz were playing pranks, Franziska was swimming, Mikkel was doing magic tricks, Elisabeth was teaching me some Sign Language, and we were just enjoying the day. Martha got a little upset that we weren’t taking the practice seriously though. While we calmed down, Mikkel posed the question that made everyone suddenly go quiet.”

Although everyone in Winden knew each other, Michael had only seen Mikkel Nielsen a handful of times. Anything Michael knew about the youngest Nielsen came from comments made by Jonas or Martha whenever she was over. The boy reminded Michael of the type of boy he had wished he could have been when he was a child. He figures that if things had been different, he would have been Mikkel Nielsen.

“He asked, if someone doesn’t believe in religion, do heaven and hell still exist? If so, how do we know which hell or heaven is the correct one?”

Michael raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath in; those were serious and deep questions coming from a child. He understood why everyone had gone quiet and why a discussion had followed.

Jonas continued in a low tone, “We decided to talk about hell first. We all agreed that it had something to do with pain and suffering. However, we noticed that everyone had a different perception of hell.”

“Like good and evil,” Michael commented. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“Everyone had an answer right away,” Jonas stated. “For example, Bartosz said that there was nothing worse than failing to protect your loved ones or than being betrayed by said loved ones. Franziska disagreed, like always, and argued that hell had to be a place of inescapable silence, a place where everyone kept secrets and lies, and the distance between people kept growing. It got a little heated, and Martha and I were the last ones to join in the conversation. That’s when Martha and I disagreed.” Jonas clenched his jaw and wondered why this was bothering more than it should; it had just been a question.

When Jonas didn’t say anything for a few minutes, Michael wondered what to do next. He knew the story wasn’t finished, but he wasn’t sure if Jonas was waiting for him to say something. Michael might be socially awkward, but he liked to believe that he was good at comforting his son. He didn’t want to fail him now.

Jonas covered his face with his right hand and then proceeded to push his hair back. “Our ideas of hell and paradise were different. Her version of hell is what I think paradise should be and vice versa.”

It wasn’t that Michael wasn’t interested in what Jonas had been saying, but it was the first time he had heard him mention thinking about heaven and hell. He asked gently, “If I may ask, what did you say, Jonas?”

A pained expression came across Jonas’s face and it made Michael’s insides twists. Michael wanted nothing more than to take that expression away from his face. Jonas’s eyes seemed to linger on the attic’s ceiling, and he shuddered, as if a painful memory had crossed his mind. Michael felt his eyes being drawn to that area and he vaguely recalled the suffocating feeling he had sometimes felt in the attic – like there was a rope around his neck that both frightened and comforted him. Michael cleared his throat and that brought both Kahnwald men out of their thoughts.

Jonas continued, “I said that hell is a place where we experience the same pain and suffering in a never-ending cycle. It’s a place where there is the illusion and hope that things can change because of our desire and belief in free-will. The idea is that hell plays on your hope in wanting to change things, because just as you think that things will change, you realize that you’re the reason for bringing the suffering for everyone. We’re forced to relive it again and again, because we never truly cease to exist. As a result, paradise has to be a nothingness; just darkness and the release of everything and everyone.”

Michael reflected on that.

“But then Martha said that paradise is a place where we don’t die and we live forever. For her, my hell wasn’t that much of a hell. She stated that it was better to have an eternal life, even with pain, where things repeat themselves because it meant that we could always be with those we care for. She argued that we would not only revisit the bad things but the good ones as well. And that’s when the argument started between us; everyone else got quiet but we still kept going.”

Michael shifted his gaze from Jonas to the unfinished painting once again, trying to process the information and searching for an answer. He then asked, “Why do you think it bothered you that much? Your difference of opinions, I mean.”

Jonas closed his eyes and thought of Martha. Back when they were having the disagreement, it was as if it wasn’t the first time they had had that conversation, even though it was. To him, the world had gotten a little darker, heavier, and angrier. Once he was able to gather his thoughts, Jonas replied, “Because it felt like we had had a similar argument before, only it has never occurred until now. For a moment, it felt intense, like our future and everyone else’s depended on that particular conversation. It felt like if we didn’t agree, we were going to do something bad and irreparable to each other.” Jonas looked down at his feet, ashamed. “I don’t know if it makes any sense. It just felt important.” Logically, he knew that they wouldn’t break up because of their differences of opinion, but Jonas couldn’t help but he worried that maybe something had changed forever. He loved her too much to let that be the end of them.

After that, none said a word for a while. The only sounds came from their breaths and the rain against the windows.

“What about you, Papa?” Jonas asked, breaking the silence. “What’s your version of hell?”

Michael blinked and proceeded to hold his hands together. “I think that like with everything, the concepts of paradise, or heaven, and hell are all a matter of perspective. It’s not just different from person to person, situation to situation, but it also applies to whatever stage in life you’re at. My concept of hell has changed significantly.”

Jonas’s air seemed to change from depressed to interested. “How has it changed?”

“Well,” Michael started, “when I was younger, before I lived with your grandmother, my idea of hell was one thing. Then it changed into whatever I was feeling; it turned into something abstract, with no real physical form, but still managed to get darker and scarier.”

Jonas stayed quiet; his father never mentioned what his life was like before his grandmother had adopted him. The only thing Jonas knew was that it was painful for him, and so Jonas never asked.

He remembered how he had once asked Michael, out of genuine innocent curiosity, what his family had been like before his grandmother had adopted him. He remembered how his father’s expression had changed into something gloomy, and how his breathing had changed. Jonas hadn’t known what to do and got no response from him other than, “I’m sorry, Jonas. Maybe I’ll tell you about them some other time.”

The exchange had left Jonas confused and worried that he had done something wrong. Thankfully, when Hannah had arrived from work that day, Jonas had told her about the incident and had asked her if he had said something wrong. Hannah had placed her hand on his face, pushing some of his hair behind his ear, and shook her head with a slight smile. She assured him that he had done nothing wrong and that Michael hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. Her smile had faltered as her lowered her eyes and proceeded to play with her wedding ring.

“Your father doesn’t like talking about it,” she had told Jonas. “He has only ever shared a little with me; I know it’s hard for him, so I never ask or talk about it. I think he prefers to forget it. Jonas, sometimes, you don’t need to know everything about a person to understand.”

Michael’s voice broke Jonas’s flashback as he said, “When I met your grandmother, my idea of hell changed. It no longer was just the things that tormented me in my life, but it had turned into something closer to what you’re told in church. But then, it changed again, and I realized that hell could change and that you didn’t need to wait until your death to go to hell – your life could easily become one. I had wondered if the same could happen with heaven.”

With all the caution he could gather, Jonas asked, “Did you ever feel like you were living in hell, Papa?”

Michael took a shaky breath but gave the briefest of nods. He played with his hands, then switched to twisting his wedding ring. “You know, that was one of the conversations your mother and I had when we were still at school.”

Jonas blinked several times as he tried to imagine his parents when they were around his age. In a bemused way, Jonas wondered if a conversation as deep as the concepts of heaven and hell had been the beginning of his parents falling in love. Would this same conversation be the end of him and Martha? He bit his lip and asked, “What do you mean?”

Michael smiled sheepishly. “It was before we were anything besides hospital friends. We would always talk about the most random of things.” He got closer to Jonas and whispered, “Don’t let your mother know, but sometimes I had no idea what she was talking about; I just kept quiet and nodded, hoping to make sense of the conversation.” Jonas laughed and Michael scratched the back on his head. Conversations with Hannah had always been fun, albeit a tad confusing; he knew it was the same for her.

Michael looked at the family photo on his desk and said, “I don’t know how we ended up talking about it, but I remember what her answer was.”

Jonas leaned in, clear interest in his blue eyes. His mother was not one to share her thoughts or feelings as much as she was one to listen and observe.

“Hannah had answered that for her hell had to be a place where she was all alone, ignored and unloved; she didn’t mind the suffering so long as she had someone by her side to go through the hard times.” He looked away from the family photo back at Jonas as he added, “Your mother often felt lonely during her childhood.” Michael knew that feeling too well.

Jonas took all that information in. “Do you know what her idea paradise is?”

“Maybe you should ask her. Your mother tends to laugh at my serious questions.” A tender look came across his face. “I would like to believe that maybe her paradise is the same as mine.”

“What’s your idea of paradise then?” Jonas asked, because he couldn’t think of what paradise would be for his parents.

“For me, paradise is any place where I know that you are happy, well, and safe. I would never ask for more than that. Any time I spend with you, Jonas, is precious, because for us, for your mother and I, you are the world. For me, having you in my life made me realize that you don’t need to wait for death to know that paradise can exist.” Although it might have looked overly sentimental to someone outside of the attic, Michael and Jonas felt lumps in their throats, and they felt their eyes water, tears threatening to fall. They had always had a great relationship but moments like these were rare.

“What I mean to say, Jonas, is that it is possible for your ideas of heaven and hell to change with time. I think that heaven and hell are not so much concepts of realities after death as much as they are concepts of realities in your life. Sometimes, things out of our control can affect our lives, decisions, thoughts and feelings and make us live through hell. Other times, our fears of what has yet to happen can provide us with another version of hell. But at the same time, when we change our views about things and our focus shifts, we come to discover that we may be closer to paradise than we might have known. Maybe Martha, like your mother had said back then, meant to say that paradise for her was here on Earth, just by being with her loved ones, through the good and bad.” He smiled, “In my case, my paradise and hell changed Jonas. Before I met Mama, my idea of paradise was a quiet and better life for me. When I met your mother, heaven became a place where we could be together, and when we got married, that changed to the dream of starting a family.”

Jonas felt his father’s gentle eyes on him. He knew that his father wasn’t one to talk much, but it made Jonas happy that they were having this conversation and he was learning more about him.

“When Hannah and I found out that you, Jonas, were entering our lives, I was happy, happier than I had ever been. I wanted nothing more than to meet you. But my biggest fear at the time was that you and your mother wouldn’t make it, for one reason or another. My fears were my version of hell. But when you were born, I realized that paradise was here and now, with my family. My version of hell now is the fear that one day something bad could happen to you, and that you might not be here because of that. If there was a way to stop that from happening, I would gladly give my life if it meant that you would continue to live.”

At the thought of his father sacrificing his life for his, Jonas got a tremendous sense of panic and despair. He grabbed Michael’s hands in his own and heard his own voice trembling and sounding small as he pleaded, “Papa, promise me you would never do that.” Jonas knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing that his father had given up his life, his future, for the sake of his son. “Please.”

Michael wanted to promise Jonas that he wouldn’t, but he knew deep down that should the opportunity arise, he would not think about it twice before giving his life in order to save his son and his future. Michael could do nothing but look at him with affection.

They stayed like that for while, only to be interrupted by a cellphone beeping. Jonas took out his phone and smiled warmly, a small blush making its way to his face. “It’s Martha. She wants us to meet up.”

Michael stood up and ruffled Jonas’s hair. “Go. Talk things out and have fun.”

Before Jonas left the attic, he looked at both paintings, and asked with a lopsided smile. “Are these paintings supposed to be heaven and hell?”

Michael shrugged. “That’s what I like to think. The finished one I did back when I was younger and a little angry – you can tell by the colors. And this one –” he pointed at the unfinished one, “is the one I’ve been working on. I’m trying to pour all my good and positive emotions into it.”

“I think it’s working,” Jonas said.

They walked downstairs and parted ways in the kitchen. Michael went to make himself some coffee, thinking about the chat they had just had. He thought it went well. He hoped it had helped Jonas.

“Papa,” Jonas called out.

Michael stopped preparing coffee and looked at his son who was by the doorframe. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” Jonas smiled warmly, his eyes gleaming and his face full of life. “For listening and for being there.”

Michael reciprocated his expression. “Anything for you, Jonas.”

“And Papa?” Jonas turned back with a yellow raincoat in his hands, the same one Michael had bought for him on a whim. “Thank you for being my father and for being here, with us.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, Jonas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, ideas, suggestions, questions, or concerns, feel free to let me know. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this :)  
> Hope you liked it :)


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